


Harry Holmes

by MyFacelessUkulele



Series: Harry Potter and the alternate parentage [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Family Feels, Father-Son Relationship
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-24
Updated: 2017-12-29
Packaged: 2018-09-19 16:26:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,200
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9450230
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MyFacelessUkulele/pseuds/MyFacelessUkulele
Summary: The letter came late in the evening. It looked like any letter one could expect to get  from a wizard, but for Harry that letter would change his life. The letter would give him a family in two brothers, an ex-soldier and two slightly overbearing grandparents





	1. The Unexpected Letter

Surprisingly it had always been the summer holidays that was the busiest time for Harry Potter. The amount of chores that had accumulated the previous year was staggering.

The flower beds, that normally looked quite beautiful and well groomed, were starting to be overgrown by weed. Of course it wasn’t as bad as number 12 up the road, Petunia would never let it get that far, but the begonias were starting to looking somewhat droopy from the lack of care.

Everything in the garage had to be sorted, and tossed in the bins if it was broken. The garage had been turned into a storage space for all the toys Dudley broke throughout the year, since Harry had “so graciously” been given Dudley's second bedroom. How one child could ever need so many toys Harry could never understand.

In addition to the long list of chores, Harry was still expected to help aunt Petunia with ordinary housework, like laundry and tidying around the house.

At the end of another long day, of trying to rid the garden of weed. Harry tiredly made his way up the stairs while chewing on a piece of toast he had managed to snatch from the kitchen, while the Dursleys was in the living room watching TV. It was the only thing he'd had time for since breakfast that morning, and by now he was famished.

He had just managed to complete his long list of chores for the day, while doing his best to avoid his uncle, Vernon, along with his bad temper. Something Harry had down to near perfection after so many years of living with the Dursleys.

The only thing he had the energy for was to go straight to bed, not even bothering to shower or brush his teeth. He would do that in the morning before anyone else had time to get out of bed.

Just as he was about to close the door to his room, Harry noticed the strange bird, resting on Hedwig's perch.

The bird blinked at him with dark eyes, that seemed to have no pupils. Its wings were black and white striped, while its body was orange with odd looking feathers sticking out on top of its head.

Having birds in his room, wasn’t anything new for Harry, he did have a pet owl after all. This bird however was not one he recognised, and there was only one person he could think of that would have any reason to send him a letter with such a strange looking bird.

Feeling excited for the first time that day, Harry quietly closed the door, making sure that none of the Dursleys had noticed a new bird in his room. They barely tolerated Hedwig as it was, and Harry was not about to press his luck by making it obvious that he was in contact with other wizards. Moving carefully towards the bird, he made to relieve it of the letter that was tied to its claw. 

As soon as Harry had removed the envelope, the bird immediately took of out the window that always stood open so that Hedwig could come and go as she pleased.

Before throwing himself on the bed Harry dropped some of the dry toast into Hedwig's food bowl, just in case she didn’t have any luck hunting tonight. Harry dragged his hand carefully over the envelope, The letter looked innocent enough, standard envelope and written on your typical parchment that most wizard tended to favour. Tearing the envelope open, Harry recognised the elegant handwriting immediately.

_Dear Harry_

_I know it has not been long since my last letter, but there is something that I have to tell you. I really wish that there was an easy way to say this to you Harry, but after trying to write this letter half a dozen times I’m beginning to realize that there really isn’t one. So i’m just going to come right out and say it._

_James Potter was not really your father. I know that this must be a terrible way to find out, and I wish I could tell you this in person, instead of writing it in a letter, but being on the run makes that somewhat difficult. If you would please bear with me, I will explain everything to you. Before I start though I want you to know that James always knew he wasn't your birth father, but know that he loved you as his own from the moment you were born, you should never doubt that!._  

_Almost a year after your parents and I had graduated from Hogwarts things started to take a turn for the worse. At Hogwarts the war always seemed so far away, but we soon realised that the Ministry had forced The Prophet to keep a lid on some of the most violent attacks. So most of us were completely blindsided by how far the war had progressed  when we left school._

_Most of You-Know-Who’s followers were obsessed with keeping the bloodlines pure. In an attempt to stop more muggleborns from being born, You-Know-Who's followers had started to attack the muggleborns parents and sibling. I think the idea was to erase the bloodlines that had first created a muggleborn, to ensure that no other muggleborns could be born from that bloodline._  

_One evening your mum’s parents and your aunt was attacked by a few Death-eaters, that is the name of His followers. They  never caught who it was. Your grandfather died in the attack, your grandmother a couple of weeks later from the injuries she got._  

_Lily didn't handle it very well, and James parents had died of dragon-pox just over a month earlier. Neither of them handled it well to be honest, both were too lost in their own grief to be what the other needed. At one point they both decided it was best to take a break from each other. James stayed with me and your mum originally left to stay with her sister._  

_I don't know exactly what happened, but I think they had a fight of some kind. According to James they hadn’t been close for years. She ended up staying with one of her mum’s childhood friends, I don't remember her name._

_I don’t know much more about what happened while she was away, but she stayed with her mum’s friend for almost a month before she came back. After that she lived with one of her own friends, while she and James worked of their relationship._

_They didn't find out that she was pregnant with you, until over a month after she came back. She and James had just gotten back together properly, when she found out. They managed to work things out between them eventually, and decided to get married. Neither of them wanted to make a big deal out of James not being your birth-father, so they only told Remus, Peter, a couple of your mums friends and me._

_I’m so sorry that you had to find out this way. I know both James and Lily had planned to tell you this when you were younger, but they never got the chance. Please don’t think any less of either of them. Both Lily and James loved you so much, you meant the world to both of them._

N-no that couldn’t be true, Harry sat up on the bed. It just didn’t seem possible. Didn’t everyone that knew his parents, comment on how much he looked like his father and had his mum’s eyes? Breathing out a slow breath in disbelief, Harry lay back down on the bed staring intently up at the ceiling. The letter dropping somewhere beside him

If this was true why had no one ever told him this? Professor Lupin had known, why hadn’t he told him when they had tea together or after the extra lessons? No one had ever mentioned his mum’s friends to him, so Harry had no clue as to who that could be, but surely one of them had to be alive and could have told him, right?

Taking a deep breath Harry picked up the letter where it lay discarded next him on the bed, and kept on reading.

_There is another reason that I’m telling you this, beside the fact that you deserve to know the truth. The other reason I’m writing to you now instead of waiting till next time we meet, is that I’m concerned for you._

_Admittingly I know hardly anything about your home life, but even I know that it can’t be considered normal to immediately want to move in with someone that you have only just meet, and considering you thought I was responsible for your parents death only an hour earlier, and I think that says a lot about the situation with your family._

_I want to help you Harry, I swear I do, but considering I’m a wanted fugitive that is next to impossible. Telling you this I truly the only way I can think of that can help you._

_Lily told us the name of your birth-father once, he is the son of your grandmother's friend, the one that Lily stayed with after her mother died. Lily said he worked for the muggle ministry, so it shouldn’t be to difficult to find him. His name is Mycroft Holmes._

_Lily never told him that she was pregnant. It wasn’t very safe to have contacts in the muggle world during the war, some wizards and witches were killed because of their connections to the muggle world._

_I want you to contact him, he can get you away from the Dursleys. I tried to send a letter to Dumbledore about my suspicions, but legally there is nothing he can do. When you were placed with them, you became a part of muggle jurisdiction, and so there is nothing he can do._

_I know this is a lot to take in, but If you have any questions about anything, don't hesitate to contact me._

_From Sirius._

Harry’s head was spinning, he was just laying there unable to form any sort of coherent thought. It just didn’t seem possible that this would happen to him. couldn’t he just have one thing about him that could be considered relatively normal? Harry thought hopelessly.

No he just couldn’t deal with this now, he wouldn’t. Taking the letter, he putting it back into the envelope, and roughly shoved it into the drawer on the nightstand by his bed. Out of sight, out of mind and all. Except getting the contents of that letter out of his mind was far easier said than done.

That night Harry quickly got undressed and threw himself on the bed. Turning his back to the room, and fell into a restless sleep

 

 

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone that have reviewed, subscribed and left kudos on this story. It really means a lot to me. Any questions, thoughts or ideas are welcome. A spesial thanks to CA Crest for being my Beta, you are awesome!

Harry woke to the screeching voice that belonged to his aunt, ordering him to “get up!”, as she banged a fist hard against the door. That had been their morning routine since he turned six, and been given the chore of making breakfast every morning.

Groaning at the high pitched voice, Harry buried his head under the pillow. Pulling the duvet over himself, praying that just this once she would go away.

Of course Harry being Harry, had no such luck. "What was that?" came Petunia's screeching voice through the door.

Sighing in defeat Harry answered "Nothing aunt Petunia, I'll be right there." After a slight pause by the door, Harry lifted the pillow slightly away from his face, glancing towards the door as he listened to light footsteps of his aunt as she made her way back down the hallway.

Rubbing his palms into his eyes, Harry moved to sit up on the bed. He was incredibly tired, thoughts about what he had learned yesterday had kept him awake most of the night, tossing and turning. Sparing a quick glance at his watch revealed that he had less an hour until Vernon and Dudley would be up.

Swearing under his breath, Harry jumped out of bed, and quickly stumbled towards the pile of clothes he had left on the floor last night. If there was one thing that was sure to piss his uncle off, it was not having breakfast ready by the time he was up. He’d gone to school on an empty stomach often enough as a child to learn that lesson

5 minutes later, he was dressed and sprinting down the stairs as quietly as he could. Doing his best to make sure neither his uncle or cousin would wake early. Hoping that he had time cooking breakfast before they were up.

As Harry hurried into the kitchen, he saw Petunia sitting on her usual place sipping on a cup of tea. Petunia gave him that special look she usually reserved especially for him. Her mouth pinched tightly together, and a set of wrinkles became visible between her eyes as she looked at him.

Yeah this was not going to be a good day, Harry thought sullenly.

“Hurry up boy, we have a meeting at Dudders school at 1 o’clock and we can’t be late.” She snapped at him the minute he came through the door.

“Yes aunt Petunia.” Harry answered meekly. Pulling out a carton of eggs, Harry began making breakfast.

For the first time since he had been given this particular chore, Harry was glad he had it. It gave him an excuse to not think about the letter, if only for a short time.

Just as he placed the last of the bacon down on the table, Vernon and Dudley came through the door and into the kitchen. Both waddled towards the table, with only a grunted "morning" of acknowledgment to Petunia. Harry they both ignored. Both sat down and immediately started to demolish everything Harry had spent the last 40 minutes preparing.

Tuning out Petunia, the best he could, as she began to recite the newest gossip to no one in particular, Harry tried to focus on his breakfast instead. Every time he tried to take a bite though, his throat closed up, and he had to fight just to be able to swallow a small bite. His stomach swished back and forth, making it almost impossible to eat anything without feeling sick. Knowing that this might be the only chance he would get to eat today, Harry forced himself to keep eating small bites.

“Remember Dudders, we have that meeting with the school in two hours.” Petunia twittered as she nibbled on a dry piece of toast. The school nurse had called a couple of days into the summer holiday, asking for a meeting with Petunia and Vernon concerning Dudley. She had not wanted to say what the meeting was about, claiming she would prefer to talk in person.

"Boy" looking up from his plate when he heard his name- well not name, but it might as well be. Harry could hardly remember ever being called anything else by his uncle. “Here is the list of chores. “I expect them all to be finished by the time we get back home” Vernon grunted, handing him a piece of paper.

Barely managing to contain a groan at the list, Harry just nodded looking down at his plate again. Uncle Vernon wasn’t finished with his instructions though. “We will be locking the door, so don’t even think about sneaking back in and slacking off”

Harry’s mood, which had not been good to start with plummet even further. It was nearly 21℃ already, and the temperature was sure to rise even further later in the day. This was going to be unbearable. Harry could feel his uncle's eyes zeroing in on him, just waiting for him to say anything in protest.

“No uncle Vernon.” Harry answered, turning back to his breakfast. “Wouldn’t want the next generation to turn into lazy slobs.” Rolling his eyes, Harry give up on eating anything more for breakfast, and slipped away from the table. Not giving his uncle any chance to reply.

.:*:.

Sitting in the flower beds, pulling out weed, Harry’s thoughts couldn’t help but return to the letter he got last night. No matter how much he tried Harry couldn’t get it out of his mind. Everything was so confusing.

It felt like his entire world had shifted beneath his feet. Ever since he joined the magical world, he had started to feel as he had a place he belonged. It was the word that his father had been born in, and his mother had joined when she was 11, like he himself had. Connecting with the magical world, had been in many ways like connecting with a small part of his parents. He might never have met them, but it had always been a great comfort to know that they had gone to the same school, walked the same halls.

Now all that was torn away from him. He had a fat-, no! Just no. Shutting down that particular train of thought before it even had time to take root Harry renewed his efforts of ridding the flowerbeds of weed with a vengeance.

He couldn't erase James Potter from his life like that. The man had loved him, Sirius had written. Heck the man had died to protect him. Harry could still remember the man's desperate attempt at keeping Voldemort away from himself as a baby and his mum. He couldn’t just let some stranger take that place.

Harry was so focused on his task , that he didn't even hear the Dursleys before the car door opened and closed on quick succession. None of them had spared Harry a single look as they had walked passed him.

Staring after the car, just as it rounded the corner and out of sight. Harry couldn't help but feel a sense of longing. He couldn’t help but wonder what it would be like to have someone that would care about what happened to him. To have his parents alive had been a childhood fantasy, he had spend many hours lock inside the cupboard daydreaming about them. (...),and now everything was just wrong.

No matter how much Harry tried to not let this news affect him, he couldn’t help but be curious about birth father. birth father, not father.

Harry sat there on the lawn, wondering what he was going to do. Sirius might be wrong though, there were no guarantee that Mycroft Holmes would be a better option than where he was now. With the Dursleys he knew what he was going to get at least. Sure they were horrible people and they hated him, and god knows he had wished for a way to get away from them for years, but Mr. Holmes could still be much worse. Anyway after almost 13 years he was pretty much used to the way they behaved.

Sighing to himself, and rubbing his eyes tiredly. Maybe he should just forget about it, take the letter and hide it away under the loose floorboard under the bed. This Mycroft Holmes probably wouldn’t even want to know he had a son. What would Harry even say to him? Provided of course that he could find an address or mobile number.

However, perhaps he could do a bit of research? It could hardly hurt. Sirius did write that Mycroft worked in the government. So there might be a mention of him somewhere on the internet, and even if he did find him, he had no obligation to ever contact him.

That... was actually not the worst idea he had ever had,and he had made plenty of bad once. He could find out about the man, without even having to meet him. The infernal curiosity, that made his stomach turn and made it impossible to truly focus on anything else, would go away, and everything could go back to normal. Harry sat up straight, his face scrunched up as he considered his options.

The only question was to find out how to go about it. The library was certainly a possibility, they had computers that were free to use for everyone. The problem would be to find time to go there. It would take almost 30 minutes to get there each way, and another hour researching. He would never find that much time to sneak away. Harry discarded that idea, almost as quickly as he had thought of it.

Harry could remember spending hours at the library when he was younger. Petunia had used to leave him there for hours at a time. Usually when she wanted some time alone to do errands or she just wanted him out of the way, so she and Dudley could go to a caféor something alone. Of course when she found out how much he enjoyed spending time there, reading and learning as much as he could, that immediately stopped. Instead she started sending him to Mrs. Figg.

Reading didn’t hold the same fascination to Harry as did when he was younger. As a child he had hoped that the Dursleys might like him better if he could just show them that he could do well in school and be good, like Dudley was. At the very least he had hoped that they might start treating him better, if he could show them that he was not “stupid” and “useless” as they called him often.

Dudley had always gotten endless amount of praise whenever he did well in school. None of that happened of course. Dudley who hated it when Harry surpassed him in anything made sure to make it look like Harry was cheating. So whenever Harry got top marks Petunia and Vernon would yell at him, before sending him to the cupboard with no supper. In the end Harry had just stopped bothering doing his best in school, not like it had ever made a difference anyway. If anything, doing well in school often made things more difficult for Harry.

Back to the problem at hand though. If it was impossible to get to the library, then Dudley's computer might be a better option. Harry’s body stiffened, his eyebrows furrowing as he contemplated that idea. It was closer for sure, less time he would have to sneak away, but also a much bigger risk of being caught. All he would have to do is find out Dudley’s password, which could hardly be difficult.

Harry huffed a small laugh at the thought of Dudley actually managing to think of a difficult password. Much less actually managing to remember it over an extended period of time.

Glancing between the front door and down the road, were the Dursley's had disappeared, Harry contemplated his options. He was rarely ever left alone at the house, so the chances of breaking into Dudley's room any other time was slim. But if he did it now...

Looking back to the front door, Harry made one of those “ spur of the moment decisions”, that always got him in trouble. Dusting of his trousers, Harry quickly got up and made his way to the front door before he had time to change his mind.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: Hi everyone. First I want to thank everyone who reviewed last chapter, it meant a lot to me. second, I’m so sorry it took me so long to finish this chapter. In my own defense there last few months have been very busy. I have had 5 exams, my flatmate moved out, a cold, computer troubles and unfortunately, a funeral. All of which came within 3 weeks. So I have not really been in much of a mood to write.
> 
> Luckily we are getting closer to the summer holiday, so I hope I will be able to write more then. I’m delivering in my Bachelor's thesis at the end of this month, but I’m hoping to have next chapter up sometime in the middle of June. 
> 
> Enjoy!

Harry’s plan was not going as smoothly as he had hoped. The plan was to sneak into the house, log on to Dudley’s computer, do the research and get back outside before the Dursleys got back home. 40 minutes tops, had been Harry’s estimate.

He should have realized sooner that it was not going to be that easy. Like most of his plans, something went wrong. Usually the problem was some factor he had forgotten to take to consideration, or something he couldn’t foresee, that happened. On the other hand, he usually he managed more that 5 minutes before the plan went awry.

He had spent almost 15 minutes trying to pick the lock with an old hairpin he had nicked from Petunia. A handy trick George and Fred had taught him the summer before his second year at Hogwarts. He had taken the hairpin as a precaution just in case he was looked in his room, or Vernon tried locking away his school books again. 

He knew he probably could have picked the lock in less time, if not for the fact that he had to keep looking over his shoulder to make sure Mrs. Green, from across the road, didn’t see him. She had a habit of lurking in the windows spying on the neighbors. Then again, so did most of the people in this neighborhood.

Glancing around to making sure the coast was clear, Harry hurried inside and up the stairs to Dudley’s room.

As soon a he open the Dudley’s door, Harry started gagging. The intense smell that hit him was enough to make his eyes water. With wide eyes he looked around the room in horror. 

Empty beer cans were hidden haphazardly around the room. The small metal wastebasket, overflowing with trash, begged to be emptied and a thick layer of dust had built up on all the shelves.

There were dirty plates stacked everywhere. Quite a few of them still had leftover food rotting away on them. On one of the plates was something that might have been a half eaten burrito once, or... possibly a dead rodent. Harry couldn’t really be sure.

Piles of clothes were lying on the floor, making it impossible to get from one side of the room to the nest without stepping on them. Well this certainly explained why there had been so much less laundry for Harry to do.

Covering his mouth and nose, Harry reluctantly moved from the doorway and further into the room. Honestly, the smell was horrible. The room smelled worse that the chamber with the troll, from Harry’s first year at Hogwarts. Both of them put together too, he reckoned. 

The air was stale and thick with the distinct smell of tobacco. Dudley couldn’t have opened the window in ages. Coughing, Harry moved from the doorway towards the computer. Making every attempt not to touching anything. 

He glanced doubtfully at the desk chair, before gingerly sitting down on the edge. Cringing as he did, while silently praying that he wouldn’t catch anything. Though he could probably develop cancer just by staying in this toxic infused wasteland for much longer anyway. 

While waiting for the computer to turn on, Harry let his gaze sweep over the bedroom. 

Dudley’s room was the only room in the house where no one but Dudley was allowed in. Not even Petunia came in here to clean anymore. Something Dudley had insisted on last year, saying he wanted to be left alone. 

Harry would be the first person to admit that he was a messy person. He had no illusions otherwise. He could be particularly messy if he was in a bad mood, or had been left locked in his room for too long. On the other hand his kind of messy usually meant throwing clothes into a heap on an empty chair or leaving books strewn around the room, as he grew tired of reading though them. Not… whatever this was. This was filthy, not just messy.

Suddenly there was a loud noise filling the room. Harry’s head snapped towards computer, looking to see if anything was wrong. Was that normal? He couldn’t remember any of the school computers making noises like that. Harry’s heart started to beat faster, forgetting everything about the state of Dudley’s room. If anyone thought he had broken the computer, he’d be done for it. 

Vernon would probably lock him in his room until the end of summer. In his mind, Harry could see himself returning to the hell that had been his first summer back in Privet Drive, before his second year at Hogwarts. There was no way he could do that again.

Taking a shaky breath Harry studied the computer, looking for anything out of the ordinary.

For once, it seemed like Harry’s luck was holding up. Nothing looked wrong. The screen was blue with a small picture of a man holding a gun. Underneath was the small rectangular meant for typing in the password. At least, if what he could remember from his first and only lesson using a computer in primary school was correct. 

Breathing out a sigh of relief Harry turned his attention to his first, real challenge. The password. Looking around the room for possible inspiration, Harry pondered what Dudley would most likely to use. 

Harry knew it was common for people to choose passwords based on that they liked. So he supposed that was a safe place to begin. 

Food, Dudley loved food. Looking over the keyboard Harry slowly started typing out all of Dudley’s favorite foods.  _ Hamburger, Pizza, Ice cream, Crisps, Chips _ . Along with about a dozen other guesses.

Harry felt himself growing more and more annoyed as none of his guesses worked. In a fit of frustration he even tried typing in  _ Fat stuff with cheese _ . Because, who knew. Dudley certainly loved that as well. Having once seen Dudley eat a mixture of microwaved marshmallows and cheese, Harry could definitely attest to that.

Once again letting his eyes wander around the room, Harry was contemplating what Dudley was most likely to use as a password. The bookshelf was crammed with all sorts of games that Dudley might have used as a password. Harry considered trying to type in some of the names, but quickly turn down that idea. It would take too long if he just kept guessing. He needed a better way of figuring this out. 

The hint to remember the password, which had popped up after his 3rd failed attempt, only said  _ Password _ . ‘Real helpful, Dudley’ Harry thought sarcastically. 

Harry slumped down slightly in his chair, rubbing his palms into his eyes. Come on, he just had to think! It couldn’t be that difficult.  There was no way that Dudley, the most unoriginal human being ever, had actually managed to think of a good password. Dudley was probably to lazy to spend time trying to think of a good password anyway.

Harry sat back up straight again. That was it, wasn't it? Dudley wouldn’t spend time on making a password. Small smirk of triumph crossed Harry’s face. It was incredibly simple really. The saying “monkey see, monkey do” really was true after all.  Though in this case “monkey read, monkey write" might be more accurate. Turning back to the keyboard, Harry started typing. P-a-s-s-w-o-r-d pressed enter, and voilà he was in. God, Harry scoffed. Dudley really was the most unoriginal human being ever. 

Quickly he found the internet browser, clicked onto the search bar and... stopped.

Harry hesitated, was he really going to do this? The small knot in his stomach, that had been there since he got up this morning, made itself known by squirming unpleasantly. Who knew what he would find if he kept looking for his birth-father. Harry anxious bit his lip as he considered what he was doing. For all Harry knew, Mr. Holmes could be some sort of psychopath. 

A psychopath who went around killing everyone he meet. Harry already had one of those in his life, he absolutely did not need another. Thank you very much!

He did want to know about his birth-father though. While Harry had no plans to contact, or ever meet him, he was immensely curious about the man. He could hardly explain it, not even to himself. Everything was just so confusing.

Harry closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Trying his best to calm himself down. He just had to follow the plan. Do the research, that way he wouldn’t have to wonder anymore. Everything could go back to normal. 

Breathing out slowly, Harry opened his eyes with renewed determination. Before he had time to second guess himself again, Harry typed  _ Mycroft Holmes _ into the search engine and clicked the search button on the screen. 

_ Did you mean _ **_Sherlock Holmes?_ ** was the first thing Harry saw. In hindsight, Harry supposed this should have been a clue that finding out about Mycroft Holmes, would not be as easy as he had previously thought. Ignoring the headline for now, Harry braced himself for whatever he would find, and started looking through the first page.

Most of the links Harry scrolled passed seemed to contain newspaper articles. All of seemed to be connected to Sherlock Holmes. Most seemed boring enough, strength of natural fibers, a list of different kinds of tobacco. There were however a few headlines that made Harry stare incredulously at them for quite some time, before he could focus enough to tear himself away. Particularly the one mentioning a really short giant?  How did that even work? And who in the world thought having an elephant in their living room was a good idea?

Shaking his head, Harry did his best to ignore any on the articles what mentions Sherlock Holmes. Focusing instead on finding out about his birth father.

Of all the things that could go wrong with Harry’s ill prepared plan, not finding out anything had not even been on Harry’s list. Mrs. Green seeing him and telling on him to the Dursleys? He had a contingency plan for that. Somebody else seeing him, and calling the police on a teenager braking into a house? He had a plan for that. Nothing showing up on Mycroft however? He had not planned for that at all.

Absolutely nothing had showed up on the first page, or the second, or the third. By the time Harry had looked through his 7th page, he mostly wanted to give up. 

Harry didn’t understand why nothing showed up though. Mycroft was an unusual name, so if he was mention anywhere it should have showed up by now. Didn’t he have...what's it called again? Bookface? Facebook? No matter what it was called, almost everyone seemed to have it these days. Even aunt Petunia did, and she almost never used the computer.

Feeling terribly disheartened, Harry let his head drop down on the table with a bang, before quickly snapping it up again. Because...yuck. The table was sticky, and he could feel an unknown substance clinging to his forehead.

Rubbing his face, in an attempt to get rid of the sticky feeling, Harry considered what he should do next. Perhaps just searching for a name wouldn't be enough? There had to be a way to specify his search more. 

Sirius had been wrong, finding someone in the muggle world was hard, particularly when you only had a name to go by. It would have been easier to find him in the magical world, where there weren’t as many  people

Harry was nothing if not determined though. Turning his attention back to the computer, Harry had every intention to scroll down a few more pages before the Dursleys returned.  The biggest problem was that Harry had no idea what else he could search for. A phonebook would be useless since he didn't have a postcode, and without any more information about his birth-father Harry really didn’t know what else to do. 

With a sigh Harry continued to scroll down the search page for any information about Mycroft Holmes. This was likely his only chance to find out anything, and he did not want to waste it. 

So focused was Harry on what he was doing, that he almost didn’t hear the car that was coming to a screeching halt outside.

Harry jumped out of his seat, ran towards the window looking out towards the driveway.  Just in time to see the black Sedan that belonged to Vernon driving into the garage. Shit! glancing towards the clock on the bedside table revealed that the Dursleys had barely been gone for an hour and a half. Why the hell were they back so soon?

Harry scrambled back to the computer. Not even bothering to turn it off properly, he just pressed the on/off button. Harry could feel his heart hammering loudly in his ears, and a layer of sweat forming on his forehead. This was not a position he wanted Vernon to find him in. He rushed out of the room desperately trying to think of a way to get out of the house unseen.

The stairs he took three steps at a time, in an attempt to get out of the house before the Dursleys got out of the garage.  No such luck though.  Just as Harry made it down the last three steps, he saw Vernon’s large shape in the blurred window on the door.

Doing the only thing he could think of, Harry hid. He threw open the cupboard door, slipped inside, and closed the door as quickly as he could. Not a moment too soon either, for just as the door closed with a soft thud, he could hear Petunia’s voice by the front door.

“...must have forgotten to lock it before we left” Petunia’s voice was even more high pitched than normal. Harry knew from experience that this meant Petunia was nervous about something. Though why she would be, Harry had no idea.

Leaning closer to the door, Harry attempted to hear what was going on in the hallway. No one said anything else though. The only noise Harry could hear was that of four people taking of their shoes and coats. As they moved from the hallway towards the kitchen Harry could recognize the heavy steps of both his uncle and cousin, as well as the light footsteps that belonged to his aunt. The fourth pair however, was unrecognizable to him. It obviously belonged to a woman, considering the lightness of her step, and the clicking of heels he had heard as she had removed her shoes.

Harry had never had any sort of impulse control, at least that he was aware of. Of course he knew that the smart thing would be to sneak back outside, and keep doing the chores he had been given. Hoping that Vernon would believe that he had been outside all day, and that the Dursley’s must just not have seen him.

On the other hand he really wanted to know who came back with Petunia and Vernon, and why Petunia was so nervous about his visit. The Dursleys had never been much for unexpected company. Whenever they had people over Petunia would spend the whole day fretting about the state of the house.

Harry’s whole body was itching to sneak out of the cupboard, and toward the kitchen. And as always, Harry let his curiosity win over his common sense. Totally disregarding that it was his curiosity that got him in this mess to begin with.

Carefully Harry opened the cupboard door, and snuck forwards to the kitchen. The door was closed, but it was still fairly easy to hear what they were saying.

“You can’t keep living like you have” Harry heard the newcomer said. Her voice was determined, but not unkind. “If you don’t change your lifestyle, both you and your son stand in danger of suffering a heart attack Mr. Dursley.

“No hear here, how we live our lives it's none of your business”  Vernon's voice was brimming with anger. Having been on the receiving end of that voice plenty of times before, Harry knew that nothing good could come of it.

“As the school nurse, it is my concern if I feel one of my students health is in danger” Well that explained who the mystery person was. Harry knew both Dudley and Vernon were a lot larger than was healthy. Particularly Dudley, who had put on a lot of weight since last summer. But to think that it had gotten so bad that the school nurse felt like she had to get involved, the thought was almost funny.

Harry stood there for a few more minutes listening to the nurse and his uncle argue back and forth. The argument seemed to be going nowhere. It mostly consisted of Vernon spewing awful accusations at the nurse, and the nurse tiredly doing her best to defend herself.

Harry was just about to sneak back outside when Petunia suddenly interrupted the argument. So far the only contributions she had made were an occasional sniffle.

“No Vernon” she croaked. “We have to do this” Harry was in shock. Petunia never openly disagreed with her husband, Harry was sure he could count on one hand the handful of times she had done so. For her to have done so now, really showed how serious she was.

“Good, then it is decided” the nurse immediately declared. She sounded relieved to finally have someone see sense. “Here is a list of food you should integrate into your diet.” Harry heard rustling of paper being passed from one person to another. “And here is a list of food you should avoid.”

There was a lot of scraping with chairs as people started to sit down at the kitchen table. “I will go through a list of healthy meal options with you. Just to help you get started. If you need more help I can refer you to a colleague who is a  nutritionist”

Deciding he had heard enough, Harry silently backed away from the kitchen. Very carefully he opened the front door and slipped outside. Sinking down next to the flowerbeds, Harry renewed his efforts on getting rid of all the weed. As he worked Harry mulled over the short conversation he had overheard.

Dudley on a diet. Just the thought of it was enough to make Harry shudder. Sure it was a bit funny, but for the most part food the only thing that could distract Dudley when he was in a bad mood. If that was taken away Harry wasn’t sure what would happened. Nothing good that was for sure.

What a waste this day had been, and it was barely past 2 o’clock. He hadn’t managed to find out a single thing about his birth-father, and this had been his only chance of finding out too. There was most likely no way that he would be left alone in the house again.

Maybe he was better of not knowing anyway. It was not like it would have changed anything. He would still have to live with the Dursleys. Still have to live with the people that had never tried to hide how much they hated and despised him.

Gritting his teeth together Harry tried to contain his disappointment. He should have known better than to get his hopes up. Harry felt like he was seven again, and releasing for the first time that there was no distant relative coming to save him from the Dursleys.

He had never meant to contact his birth-father, but never the less it had been a small comfort to know that if things got too bad with the Dursleys then he would at least have the option of leaving.

Just as Harry pulled up a particular stubborn piece of weed, he heard Dudley shouting from inside the house. “Not that no, I need it!” Even from outside Harry could hear the panic rising in Dudley’s voice.

With a deep sigh Harry did his best to tune out the loud voices coming from the house, and instead spend the rest of the day focused on completing the list of chores he had been given.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Any thought, comments, ideas or suggestions are welcome. Also if you have time you can check out the poll on my profile page, and help me decide which Sherlock character (beside Mycroft) will find out about the magical world. But remember I will only let one other person find out (unless you vote for Mrs. and Mr. Holmes)
> 
> Also, if you are going to leave a review anyway why not add a film title for me to watch? It is almost the weekend and I have absolutely no idea what to watch.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, I can't believe it has been about six months since I last posted a chapter... I can only say that I'm sorry and that I will try to do better in the future. The only explanation I can give is that I recently made quite a massive life change. Some of you might already know from my profile that I just moved to China. That has been quite an exhausting undertaking, so I'm afraid I had to put this story on temporary hold, as I got used to the different culture and such. Anyway, please enjoy.

The sound of heels hitting marble floors was the only sound that could be heard in the halls of Diogenes club. In most places, this noise would barely even raise an eyebrow. But this was Diogenes club, and every single person Anthea passed on her way down the corridor, stopped what they were doing, to stare reproachfully at her.

Anthea, however, paid no mind to any of the stern looking ladies and gentlemen she passed. She was a woman on a mission, and she would not let anyone get in her way. In her hand, Anthea carried a thin black folder, that she regularly tapped her fingers against.

And, even though she tried to walk as quietly as she could, her top priority was to get to her destination as quickly as possible.

In the usually quiet hall, the sound of Anthea walking seemed so much louder than it really was. It was almost like it grew louder and louder with each step she took.

Slipping through the hallway, Anthea swiftly entered the corridor that housed all the different conference rooms and offices.

While Diogenes was first and foremost a club, a place for powerful and influential people to relax in peace and quiet. It also served as a place where a selected few chose to work or, in some cases, conduct meetings.

Spotting the room that was her destination, Anthea started to move quicker. Not even bothering trying to be quiet, in the now empty hallway. Stopping in front of an inconspicuous door, Anthea quickly slid a hand down the front of her skirt, smoothing it out. She tucked the folder over her forearm so that it was resting on her waist. Squaring her shoulders and lifting her head, she took a quick, quiet breath, before opening the door and confidently stepping inside.

Inside the room sat a small gathering of people around a square table. None of them bothered to even look her way when she entered. They just kept up their discussion as if no one had entered the room at all. Sliding to the side of the chamber, Anthea sat down in one of the chairs, along the wall, slightly apart from the main group.

Fishing up her phone from her purse, Anthea quietly started tapping away. Rearranging meetings, and sending a few messages to different people.

While she had indeed been in a hurry to get here, it would not do to draw unnecessary attention to her self. A lesson she had learned early on, after starting to work for her boss.

Anthea knew that the best way for her not to attract any attention to herself was to pretend nothing was wrong, and quietly sit there as if this was a typical occurrence. But by God!, this was much more important, than discussing the itinerary of some Ukranian computer engineer.

Just as she looked up towards Mr Holmes, his head turned slightly to the side so that she was better in his sights. Their eyes met for only a second, but it was obvious, to her at least, that he was silently questioning why she was there.

In response, Anthea slightly raised the folder she still had in her hand. The universal gesture of "you need to see this"

Mr Holmes turned even more towards her, silently scrutinising her. After a couple of seconds, he gave her a minuscule nod, before turning back to the group.

.:*:.

Mycroft Holmes loathed conference meetings. He detested sitting for hours listening to his colleagues addressing matters which were either so plebian, it was hardly worth his time or the solution to whatever problem they were discussing was so painstakingly obvious, a child could have figured it out.

Mycroft honestly had no idea why he was forced to sit there and listen to these people drivel on and on. Did he not have more important matters to attend to? Surely there must be a war about to break out somewhere? Or perhaps a nice international crisis that required his immediate attention? Anything would do, as long as he could get out of this room, and away from these people.

He absolutely loathed being forced to sit there for an unacceptable amount of time, pretending to pay attention to what was being said. Most of the time he would just sit there, leaning back in the chair, with a look of calm disinterest on his face. His hands folded gently in front of him, and his feet stretched out, as he studied the people around him.

It was on occasions like these that Mycroft was particularly grateful he rarely had to work with people. And his colleagues, in turn, were probably equally thankful that they rarely had to work with him.

It was common knowledge amongst the patrons of Diogenes club that Mycroft neither worked well with other, or in fact enjoyed doing so. Mostly because it took over three times as long when he had to slow down his thinking process enough for people to be able to keep up. Never mind how many times he had to stop and explain things.

Abhorred, hated, detested, loathed. It really was no end the adjectives he could use to describe what he felt about these meetings. If Mycroft were anything like his little brother, he would have lied down on the floor, shouting that he was bored to anyone that would listen.

Banishing that particular disturbing image from his mind. Mycroft could only thank, whichever gods that existed that he was nothing like Sherlock Holmes.

Whereas Sherlock loved to shout out everything he deduced about a person to them directly, Mycroft preferred keeping things he deduced to himself. It was, after all, the best way he could ensure that his colleague's secrets, were only made known at the precise time he deemed fit.

That might be the only good thing that came out of these meetings. It was, after all, one of the few times, so many of his high-profile colleagues gathered in one place, and it gave him ample opportunity to study their behaviour and figure out all their little secrets.

How else was he supposed to find out that Mr Owens was planning to divorce his wife of 25 years? Or that Miss Lewis had started a somewhat promiscuous relationship with a few of the maids she employed at her house. Or perhaps that Mr Carlson was currently looking for a way to, discreetly, "get rid of" a pregnant ex-mistress.

Of course, Mycroft knew that there were other ways for him to unearth all these little tidbits of information, but those methods would make a paper trail. And if Mycroft was honest with himself, he enjoyed being the only one with this kind of information. It meant he could make sure the knowledge was released in precisely the manner and time that would be most advantageous.

While doing his best to tune out Mr Owens, Mycroft could, out of the corner of his eye, see his assistant quietly entering the conference room. His brows furrowed slightly in confusion. It was, after all, not usual for Anthea to sit in on a meeting without being explicitly told to.

The second Anthea had entered the room, Mycroft could tell that something was wrong. He could see it as clearly as he could see that the sky was blue. He saw how the way she moved was slightly faster than normal. The way she restlessly tapped her finger against a folder in her hand. Even after she had sat down, and started working on her phone, he could see how she touched the screen harder than usual.

It had not been because of any discernable skill on Anthea's part that had gotten her the job of Mycroft's PA. She had neither been one of the most intelligent people that had been interviewed nor had she been the person with the most experience. No, it had been her ability to appear utterly apathetic and uninterested to the world around her, that got her the job.

She had a rare gift of being able to deal with almost any situation without showing any emotion at all. She knew how to act indifferent to anything that happened, and anything people said.

Once Mycroft had watched her talk down an African war-lord from declaring war on a neighbourhood rival, who was trying to move onto his territory. All while tapping away on her phone, rescheduling meetings and whatnot, still with a blank expression on her face. Needless to say, Mycroft, who had stood in the background merely observing, had found the situation quite amusing.

This was the skill that had made her truly valuable as his assistant. He never had to worry that she might give anything away when meeting with other government officials.

Any additional qualification she now had, had been learned after she got the job. So seeing her now, clearly agitated, was very disconcerting.

Feeling Antheas gaze on him, Mycroft shifted slightly in his seat. As soon as their eyes met, Anthea raises the folder she is holding. Clearly indicating there is something of importance that he must see.

Truth be told, he doesn't care what is in that folder, as long as it gets him out of this room and away from these imbeciles. Anything is better than sitting here, letting his brain rot from listening to Mr Owen talk. It was almost painful watching his mouth try to form a coherent sentence.

Giving Anthea a slight nod, Mycroft turned back to the meeting.

None of his colleagues has paid any attention to his silent communication with Anthea. So when he suddenly gets up from his seat, interrupting Mr Owen mid-speech, they all turn abruptly towards him, surprise on their faces.

"Well, as it appears we are no closer to reaching a decision, might I suggest we resume our discussion until tomorrow?" Mycroft said with a bland smile on his face.

Without waiting for any of them to reply, Mycroft bent down, picked up his umbrella and briefcase before strolling out.

As he made his way out the door, Anthea caught up with him, and together they walk towards Mycroft's office. Neither of them speaking a word, as per the rules of Diogenes club.

A single cough could get you a lifetime ban if done to loudly. A rule not even Mycroft was exempted from.

As soon as they arrived at Mycroft's office, Mycroft sat down behind his desk before turning expectantly towards Anthea. "Well, what is it that requires my attention," He said while stretching his arm across the table, reaching for the folder.

Anthea promptly handed it to him while saying: "We just got a tip from the surveillance department. Someone has been trying to find you."

"That is hardly unusual," Mycroft said as he started to study the documents.

There were sometimes up and coming politicians that heard about him, and tried to find out more. Almost all of were entirely unsuccessful.

"No," Anthea agreed. "The origin and method however are. Of the four people that we have narrowed this down too, none of them has anything explainable that link them to you. Nor do they have any connections that would explain how they heard about you in the first place."

That was unusual, Mycroft mused as he kept reading the document. There were not many people that knew what Mycroft did for the government and even fewer that would use such archaic methods of finding out more about him.

"Really", Mycroft thought to himself. Anyone that had even the slightest idea of what he did would know that a simple internet search would yield no results. Anything about him had of course been redacted.

The only useful information in the folder was an address, Number 4, Privet Drive, Little Whinging, Surrey, that the IP-address had been registered to. Along with some basic information about everyone that lived at that address.

Studying the information of the father, Mycroft couldn't help but scoff. There was little to no possibility of Mycroft ever crossing path with such a man. Middle management worker in a drilling company. Morbidly obese. Due to have his first heart attack in seven, no six years. Had quite the anger management problem too.

As Mycroft read on about Mr Dursley, Anthea turned her attention back to her phone.

"We have just got confirmation of their locations at the time the search was made." Anthea's voice interrupted his reading. "It seems like Mr and Mrs Dursley, along with their son, were all at a meeting with a nurse where Mr Dudley Dursley goes to school. We caught all three of them on a security camera, minutes before the search was made." A soft beep follows Anthea's statement. Looking down at his phone Mycroft opens the message she had just sent him. Containing a video file with security footage of the Dursley family driving past.

"No confirmation on the location of Mr and Mrs Dursly's nephew, a Mr Harry Potter, yet. But he is the only other resident living in that house."

Frowning, Mycroft skipped a few pages ahead, quickly finding the pages with the nephew's information. Out of the four, he had thought the children the most unlikely candidates for attempting to locate him.

"And we are absolutely sure this information is accurate?" Mycroft couldn't help but ask, as he quickly skimmed through the papers in front of him. Looking for anything that stood out.

A somewhat distracted "Yes" is the only reply he gets, as Anthea is once again busy working on her phone.

Frowning, Mycroft turned his attention back to the papers in his hand. Studying them more closely.

Name: Harry James Potter.

DOB: 31.07.1980.

Hair: Black.

Eyes: Green.

Father: Unknown.

Mother: Lily Potter nee Eva-

Here Mycroft froze completely. He stopped breathing mid-breath, just staring down at the information in his hand. This was not real. This could not be happening.

Slowly, Mycroft let his gaze slide towards a picture on top of the page, which he had previously ignored.

Staring up at him from the folder, was the picture of a young boy, perhaps eight or nine. He had dark, messy hair, which pointed in all directions. His face, though still somewhat rounded by youth, carried the features that would eventually, no doubt, sharpen up, and give him high cheekbones and an aristocratic look.

A look, very much like the one his own paternal side favoured.

Mycroft let his gaze flicker back and forth between the picture, the boy's mother, and the date of birth. For once in his life, Mycroft hoped that he was wrong in his assumption.

Quickly, doing any necessary mental calculations, Mycroft finally lets out a slow breath. Oh, how Mycroft wished he was back in that conference room right now.

"The security department is currently putting together a more thorough profile of everyone living at that address," Anthea says while looking down at her phone. "They should be finished within two hours."

"No," Mycroft's voice was a little unsteady as he interrupted Anthea. He cleared his throat before trying again. "No, that won't be necessary."

Quickly, Anthea's head snapped up from her phone, to stare incredulously at her boss.

"Sir... surely this is most important? We have no idea how this information was leaked. We could have a major security breach." Anthea said carefully.

Mycroft hardly paid any attention to the rest Anthea said, as she tried to explain why they must continue to look into this incident. The only thing his mind registered is the shock of the situation he was currently in. This could not be happening. He had always been careful when it came to that part of his life, precisely to avoid circumstances such as these.

Finally, Mycroft looked up from staring at the picture of his newly discovered son. He doesn't need any test to know. Everything fits, the timeline, who the boy's mother is, and it explains perfectly why the boy had tried to research him. Somehow the boy must have found out what Mycroft himself had just found out, or he had been told and had subsequently decided to find out more.

"Head to the security department, and shut down all inquiries about the Dursley family," Mycroft ordered, effectively cutting off the rest of Anthea's sentence. Mycroft's voice broke no argument as he firmly shuts the folder and placed it down on his desk.

"Make up any necessary excuses and wipe any trace of ever having looked into this family." Mycroft paused slightly and glanced down at the document on his desk before refocusing his attention back on Anthea, adding decisively "Discretely."

Anthea's brows were scrunched together, and she looked like she wanted to argue, but she only gave him a sharp nod, and a "Yes, sir" before leaving the office to do as told.

Finally alone, Mycroft slowly sinks back into his chair, rubbing two fingers at the bridge of his nose, as he felt a tension headache coming on. He let out a slow, shaky breath. No one could know about this. If anyone where to find out, they would try to use it against him.

Even after close to 20 years of working for the British government, people still tried to use his drug addict brother against him. If anyone of them were to find out he had a child, they would use it against him in an instant.

No, this had to be buried. The boy, Harry, had naturally not found anything of value. And Anthea was currently wiping any trace of this ever happened. It would be like it never happened.

After all, Mycroft thought determinedly, staring stone-faced down at the file, caring was not an advantage.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story hasn't been betaed yet, but I didn't want to wait before posting it. 
> 
> Before you go, I just want to say Merry Christmas to anyone that celebrates that, Happy Hanukkah to anyone that celebrate that, and to those that celebrate neither I hope you have a lovely day. And to everyone, HAPPY NEW YEAR!
> 
> Ps. Sorry I have been so terrible at answering reviews, I have just been so busy.

**Author's Note:**

> Any thoughts, comments or suggestions that can help me be a better writer are much appreciated.


End file.
